


as long as you love me

by Emykrad



Category: VIXX
Genre: Character Death, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 20:45:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18289922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emykrad/pseuds/Emykrad
Summary: The love story of two souls destined to meet, but to suffer in being united; This story speaks about this, praying that a sweet and gentle end will await these predestined souls.





	as long as you love me

He met him on an enchanted night, those in which you go out for a walk, despite the cold, with the dog or to just take a breath of fresh air, just for the pleasure of it, or those in which you didn't plan to get up from your bed, wrapped in your warm and fuzzy blanket with your head resting on that fluffy pillow that knows so much of dreams and candid clouds, in which the sky and air surrounding you seems like they're dragging you into another world, when you are alone and you feel free from every weight, a light heart and your lungs capable to breathe without that daily suffocation.

It was cold, he could see his breath freeze in the air and then fade into the dark sky full of stars, hands deep down his denim jacket's pockets and his neck wrapped into his warm black scarf; he was walking to the nearest market (he ran out of milk), and if he wasn't using his headphones, he would have heard the sound of his own steps on the asphalt and the soft raining falling around him, light but more and more strong as he arrived at his destination; he saw a figure, at a very wide distance, sitting on the edge of the sidewalk, right under the street lamp, wearing a t-shirt and a pair of shorts which, deducting from its rabbit motifs, were part of a pajama.

It was way too cold to go around dressed like that, and when he walked in front of him, as well as to notice it was a man, he also saw he had a lost look, thinking about who knows what, sitting in the cold, under an almost blinding light; he looked like a sculpture put in sight against its artist's will, lost in between the stares of its admirers passing through it without actually seeing, without trying to understand it.

After a moment of esitation, he passed him and went, a few feet further, into the shop, his dream's goal, to buy the milk that he so longed for; in two minutes he was already done and was going out, that guy always sitting there, lips a bit bluer and his trembling a bit louder, and decided to give it a try and talk to him, worried.

"I'm sorry for the intrusion but" he said bending slightly, resting his knee on the icy asphalt, feeling the cold penetrating through his jeans and wondering how cold that man must be feeling at that moment, just to look better at his face "...aren't you...cold?" the other didn't move of an inch, as if he pretended not to hear him, or maybe he was so focused on his own thoughts that he really didn't, so he tried again, this time a little closer, touching lightly his shoulder "Listen…why don't you go home? It's too cold to stay dressed like this on the streets…do you need some help?", nothing again, and he decided to give up (not like it was his business, he was a stranger after all); he started to move away when he heard a slight whisper, trembling and almost breathless, coming from his ever bluish lips "…ove", not having heard his words well, he asked him to repeat, turning on his direction, a little louder, and this time the other gently raised his head, looking into his eyes, desperate and confused, and said, with a low voice, though more understandable "I can't…move", he said to him with what seemed to be his last forces, before collapsing into the cold ground, shivering and feeble, but still conscious.

He panicked for a second, seeing such a scene, but he covered him right away with his denim jacket, which wasn't exactly the warmest thing, but at least was something more of that white, light t-shirt that guy was wearing, embracing him, to warm him up a bit more.

He called a taxi, to take him home, but when he received no answer apart from his trembling teeth, sighing and a shadow of terror inside his eyes, he called it a day and brought him at his own house, which wasn't exactly the largest one on this world, but had enough space for another stray soul, and enough blankets to make it rest warm and safely, protected.

 

The next morning, it took him, the stranger, a moment to remember crearly the situation he was in, after just waking up, but at the same time recalling very little of the past night, and before the other man could notice, he was already getting up from the sofa in which he was sleeping and started looking around doing a tour of the house, driven by his curiosity.

It was nothing imposing nor anonymous, a flat of the average dimensions with an average living room, a cream-coloured sofa on whose head were placed some shelves stuffed with books until bursting, overlooking a dark wooden table and a flat TV, under which there were other books, cds and candles, candles everywhere; he saw the large window covered with light honey-colored curtains, through which entered soft rays of light, making that living room much warmer and cozy; he looked around a bit more, seeing the kitchen, small and kind of empty, with just the necessary, but with a fridge full of magnets and dumb drawings, one small table with three chairs and a cactus in the middle, a somewhat ambiguous thing, if he hadn't already seen all the candles all over the place; finally he reached the door at the end of the corridor, studded with paintings and pictures, which he didn't observe that much, as attracted by something else.

The door was half-opened, and when he pushed it a bit, without making any sound, he saw in front of him a bed in which a man was sleepig between white, candid blankets while resting his head on a fluffy, pastel pink pillow, a long and large window once again, and a desk in the opposite corner, here too, paintings and pictures, candles and and a built-in closet all along the wall, some clothes around the floor and a book, resting under the hanging hand of its owner.

He kept on observing him from there, until he gave a sign of life and, opening his tired eyes, just enough to see the man standing next to the door, and remembering rescuing him the night before from the street, while he was looking at him with curious and slightly scared eyes.

He looked back at him, with a smile and a question "How do you feel?"

The man in front of him widened his eyes, as if he had just realized the reality of his situation, and answered cautiously "Thank you for…not leaving me there to freeze", looking away and playing with his own fingers, embarassed by the memory.

The other, softened by the scenery, stood up slightly, sitting between the covers with the eyes still tired and feeling sleepy.

"I could never do something like that, and you looked like you really wanted my help, so I don't mind" he smiled at him once again, finally getting up from his bed, wearing a pair of grey shorts and a white t-shirt, and he walked in his direction, stopping at a short ditance from him "My name's Hakyeon, by the way, so as not to stand in the house of a total stranger, right?" and while lightly laughing, he estended one of his hands towards him, to shake hands, and the other to his mouth, trying to cover the smile that arosed spontaneously.

Realizing that he had been observing that movement for too long "Hongbin!" he said, perhaps raising his voice too much and then continuing to a slightly lower volume "I mean, it's-it's my name" more and more embarassed, but finally shaking his hand, soft and warm, that compared to his, was even bigger, with long and fine fingers, and once again he was observing his hand for way too long.

"I'm quite hungry, personally, what about you?" Hakyeon asked him with gentle eyes, changing the subject, pushing him slighlty aside, and then heading down the corridor, to the small kitchen and to his fridge.

Hongbin followed him diligently, observing his movements silently, as he pulled out the milk, took a bowl for himself, and one for him too, filling it with milk and, pulled out a box from a shelf above his head, ending up incredibly close, he also poured chocolate cereals into it.

"I Don't know what you like to eat in the morning but... that's all I have so you'll have to settle down" he said, almost ashamed, and smiling softly, closing his eyes.

"No-it's not a problem, don't worry about me, I'm just sorry I'm making it all so troublesome for you" he smiled at him spare, embarrassed, and with a great desire to run away.

They ate in silence, Hongbin felt at first uneasy, in the house of a stranger, but the silence that surrounded them, as he realized shortly afterwards, was different from what he was accustomed to, it was a light silence, which did not need to be filled and which was not there to make people feel lonely, it was comfortable, relaxing.

He realized how much that house was like his owner.

He watched him eat and watch the phone, his movements were delicate and his hands seemed to caress the air.

Hongbin came to the conclusion that Hakyeon was a kind man, which he was not accustomed to.

On the other hand, Hakyeon was perfectly aware of how the other was looking at him, but instead of feeling judged, he seemed to stand before a boy who knew nothing about this world, with that curious look, emptied of all prejudice.

Hakyeon realized how pure Hongbin was of heart, with his eyes full of curiosity, as a child asking what clouds are made of.

 

After that morning, in which they spent that little time together, with almost no word, they met, a couple of times, on the street and reached the conclusion of living in the same neighbourhood when they clashed at the bus stop in front of the building of Hakyeon.

They had very different lives, those two, and yet they took the same bus and had very similar schedules, so it became a habit for them to go and come home together, walking a bit and talking a bit.

Hakyeon was a dance teacher, he said one day, as he looked at the delicate petals of the cherry trees falling under their feet and on their heads "Sometimes I feel like them, you know?"

"How so?"

"Just like these flowers, while I dance, I feel like them, who fly free, with the ecstatic looks of thousands of spectators" said, continuing to watch them, as a spectator himself.

Hongbin wanted to tell him how he was better than any other flower he had ever seen, and that he wished to see him dance, like the petals falling on their heads and under their feet.

 

Hongbin was not good with words and always said he did not have much to tell, yet Hakyeon saw it, that something in his eyes, a secret or perhaps a soul just too fragile to be exposed.

However, he once said he was working near the dance school where Hakyeon teached, as a librarian in the morning, and as a clerk in the afternoon at the local arcade, also nearby, but that truly, his dream was to sing.

When he told him that, it seemed like he had suddenly stripped of all his barriers, and with a sad glance, turned to the sky and whispered a slight "but I'll never be as good as he is" moving back his gaze on Hakyeon, showing a bitter smile.

Hakyeon had been puzzled, wondering who was that 'he' said so sadly, but he dropped the speech noting how much the other one seemed contrary to talking about it.

 

They learned small parts of each other lives, one day Hongbin also revealed about that night they had met, explaining how he had fought with his brother, with whom he lived, and how he had fled home, which he regretted soon after because of the cold, but with too much pride to come back home with his tail between his legs.

He also revealed that his brother, older than a year, was a drug addict, and they often argued over money.

Hakyeon learned how proud the other was and often used sarcasm as a form of defense, with a language always formal, but also always direct and sharp.

Hongbin, instead, learned of how kind Hakyeon was and how he was always carrying along with him something warm to drink, like teas or herbal teas; he used a lot of physical contact, even though Hongbin was not too compfortable with it and always tried to reject it, but they both knew how much he actually loved to be hugged.

Hongbin was a listener while Hakyeon always had something to tell.

One day, however, Hongbin could no longer listen to his stories, as there was no more trace of that man to whom he had so much grew fond of.

He cursed himself for never asking for his number, and decided to wait until everything would simply return to normal.

But this did not happen, and after a month and a half of loneliness, he decided to go and take him by his ears.

On his day off he walked around his neighbourhood in search of Hakyeon's house, vaguely recalling his appearance, but not his position, which at last he found, after hours of research and weary sighs, in a half-hidden street, surrounded by trees and with dogs in the grab or at every corner, ready to scare him to death with their yellowing.

 

When he found himself in front of his door, he began to knock and call his name insistously, receiving obviously, no answer.

He sat there after so, waiting perhaps in a return from the grocery or a short walk in the summer sun.

Hours passed, and when Hongbin decided to surrender and get up to leave, he heard a loud noise coming from the house behind him, and he started knocking again, now with the certainty that there was actually someone inside.

"Hakyeon! Open the door I know you're there! "

He heard heavy footsteps getting slow to the door, then stopping, and a thin voice, almost whispered, replace their sound "please... go away".

"You can forget about it, do you know how worried I was about you!? Now open or I swear I'll break-" he was interrupted by the opening of the door, and Hakyeon finally showing himself in the eyes of the other, thin and pale, with dark circles under his eyes and these looking even worse.

Hongbin shuddered, hardly recognizing the man he had before, failing to connect his image to that always both smiling and handsome man.

"What the heck happened, explain" and as he said so, he went into the house without waiting for an answer, and headed into the kitchen, beginning to prepare two cups of hot tea with honey, hoping to warm up at least a little that cold atmosphere.

They sat opposite one another and Hakyeon, with his hands wrapped around a steaming cup of tea, he told how dancing had injured his leg and how in the hospital, they had told him that he could no longer dance, or would end up in a wheelchair for life.

At that moment, Hongbin remembered how Hakyeon once described to him what dancing was to him, and why he cared so much about it, with three words: grace, strength and freedom.

Hakyeon had lost his freedom, and had remained oppressed and chained.

"Hakyeon, do you want to hear me sing?"

 

At first he began to go to Hakyeon only on Sundays, his day off, but over time he also came on Saturday, after work, and slowly, every day for dinner.

Hakyeon had a guitar in the house, abandoned in the corner of the bedroom "I only know like one song, I don't know why I bought one" he explained, and Hongbin decided to make it his own, using it whenever he felt the need to share some of his freedom with Hakyeon, singing.

Every day that passed, their bond was strengthened, Hongbin thought he had found a brother, Hakyeon maybe something more.

 

Usually after eating they stood a little together and then Hongbin went home, saying that his brother was waiting for him, his only family, but one day Hongbin did not get up from the couch, not even when the timetable exceeded by far the curfew that he usually imposed on himself.

"Will you stay to sleep?" Hakyeon asked him, and Hongbin nodded his head, not giving an explanation in words, but with his gaze, full of rage but at the same time exhausted, and when he put him in bed with him, he wrapped him in his arms and left him crying on his chest.

 

It was late winter when Hakyeon decided to make a promise to Hongbin; They were eating ramyeon together, watching a movie on television, when he suddenly came up with "Hey, do you want to make a promise?"

"Huh? What do you mean? "

"If you promise me that you'll go to an audition as a singer, I'm going back to teaching dance"

Hongbin almost choked on hearing his proposal, but the more he thought, the more it seemed the right thing to do, after all, Hakyeon was pulling forward between savings and small part-time jobs, and at the same time he had always wanted to try, without ever having the courage.

"Okay."

"Okay? Okay! " yelled enthusiastic Hakyeon, ready to support the other until his death, and hugging him narrowly, making him almost topple all the food on the floor.

 

The days passed light, fast and without too many worries, and one day in particular, that must be remembered, happened among these.

Hakyeon had actually started teaching again, though no longer starring, as he was saying, and Hongbin had actually enrolled in an audition, which seemed so far and at the same time, around the corner.

They were coming home after work, in their walk from the bus stop to Hakyeon's house, and they had even stopped to buy food, along the way.

It was starting to get really cold and the two tended to walk very close, as if to warm each other, or maybe it was a simple habit that had been put on time.

While Hakyeon was telling of a little boy of his class who always made him laugh with his jokes, Hongbin looked up at the now night sky, and as months before he saw the petals fall gently from the trees, this time he saw snowflakes coming down from the sky with the same grace.

He also remembered that thought that crept into his head, by seeing so much beauty, and realized how it hadn't changed, or rather, it was, but instead of witheing was bloomed and grew more and more; He turned his face towards Hakyeon seeing how he had stopped talking, seeing how he too was looking at that so candid first snow.

"I've never seen anything so beautiful," Hakyeon said, taking a snowflake in his hands and watching it melt away from the warmth of his skin.

"Not even I," answered Hongbin, looking at him.

Hakyeon turned his face in his direction, to answer him, but he remained silent, seeing how Hongbin was watching him, with a something in his eye, other than fear, other than happiness, it was the same glance that he knew to possess, by this time, while looking at Hongbin.

It was love, in the purest of its shapes.

So many times he had restrained himself from touching those soft lips and still repeatedly watching him with a look that he knew was too readable, but this time he did not, and in a fraction of a second, he had his face in his hands and his lips on his.

Their glances were aware, as they intermingled with one another, without letting go, of what they had just freed.

 

Things did not change much after that day, their daily life was always the same, the only thing that was added were the kisses given here and there, in random moments, and even more physical contact, as if being separated was physically painful.

Hongbin now spent most of his time at Hakyeon's house, and there was a period, after a particularly violent fight with his brother, in which he did not return home for two weeks, without however even being able to imagine what would be found before his return.

 

The funeral was hastily arranged and Hongbin tried a kind of remorse from which one cannot heal.

That day, he also told Hakyeon that he was the one he talked about every now and then, he said how he had taught him to sing and how he himself was a prodigy, and whatever his voice touched, became the most splendid art.

"We often sang together, now I'll have to do it alone."

 

From that moment, everything changed.

Hongbin had no longer any purpose, he had failed to audition and decided it would have been pointless to try again, moreover, one evening not long after that fact, he decided to return to his old house to take the last things he had not yet moved to Hakyeon's house, but waiting for him there was not an empty house, but men dressed in black, armed and with no pity.

Hakyeon found him thrown in the trash, with wounds in every visible part of his body, not wanting to think about the internal damage that had caused him.

He took care of him, caring him as best as he could, stitching back what he could, not as delicately as he would have liked, but with all the love he had.

There were frequent threats after that day, they wanted money that neither Hakyeon nor Hongbin had, but the two decided to resist together, against every difficulty life laid in front of them.

When one day they were back home and they saw the door open, its interior completely overturned, with objects destroyed and shattered from all sides, they took a decision,  
escaping.

They Didn't have much, but it was enough for them to leave for a while, all they needed was the presence of the other, which allowed them a moment of breathing in a daily drowning.

 

On a spring day, their hands were interwoven and the light tears rested on them, while their lips were whispering promises and words too powerful to be revealed.

They Looked at the bright sky, with the rays penetrating through the clouds, scattered in the limitless blue sky of that morning, and observing the petals slipping light into the air, they also were transported, knowing their destiny, and facing it together, hand in hand.

 

A man once asked "Are you truly living?" and to this question he was answered  
"No, I am yearning for death in order to truly live".

 

 

"In this world made of tears  
Will my death truly be the end of it all?  
Those of you in search of happiness, only futility awaits you.  
Those smiling flowers and  
The birds  
All share the same fate.  
Thrivers life, absorbed in living,  
You are the one  
Dancing on the Blade."

-The Theory of Death and Life, May 4, 1926, Kim Woo-jin.

**Author's Note:**

> Hiii,  
> this is Emily.
> 
> I've been working on this for so long istg, but now it's done!  
> it's mostly insipirated by the hymn of death on netflix, i hope i did a good work. c:


End file.
